Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Monday, January 30, 2017

You've seen them-- what I do during the day, and it's usually exhausting?

Well, yesterday we went to a knitting workshop on color work with the amazing Franklin Habit, and we had the best fun!! I learned a few things (speed swatching, garter jacquard-- I feel so phisticated!)

But today, I'm staying with my friend, the wonderful Karen Rose, and we're here at a condo in Florida, and let's just say things run a little differently here...

* ? o'clock-- wake up. Get a message.

* After message, breakfast.

* After breakfast, walk on the beach!

* After walk on the beach, knitting and good conversation.

* Lunch!

* More knitting and good conversation.

* Go out to dinner

* Great TV and knitting

* Blog a little, go to bed

Now, you all know me well enough to know this doesn't happen often in my lifetime. Tomorrow I've got a pretty busy day, including writing for deadline, and my knitting isn't just for relaxation--I'm giving away some items for swag gifts at Coastal Magic. (I have two more pairs of the K-Pop mitts for giving away, and I'll probably have two more by the time the con starts--yay!)

And maybe I'll call some senators too.

But sometimes the noise of our lives gets overwhelming, and that's when we feel too hopeless to fight.

Today was a wonderful recharge of the batteries--and I'm so grateful I had the chance to spend a quiet day with a good friend.

Friday, January 27, 2017

I was getting ready to fold clothes--and there's ALWAYS a LOT of clothes. I used to call it the laundry monster, remember? We'd pull clothes out of the clean pile and wear them and feed them to the dirty pile and repeat the process?

Well, anyway-- trying to catch up with the clothes thing--because yes, it needs to be done, and I'm packing tomorrow, and I like to have my choice of the underwear that don't fall down, that's why--and I start flipping through the channels.

And I stumble upon one of Mate's favorite movies.

Wait for it...

Con Air.

Yes, that Con Air, where we all looked at the pictures and thought, "I didn't think Nicholas Cage's hair could get any weirder!" Where we went, "Oh, look! John Cusack's in this! He's ADORABLE. And an ACTION star!"

The one where Steve Buscemi talked about wearing a woman's head as a hat as he drove through three states.

THAT movie.

And I thought "Yanno... what the hell."

You have to understand-- every time I sat down to work today I got sucked down the political rabbit hole, and I was so. done. I needed something mindless, with explosions and pectorals to restore my faith in humanity and distract me from the fact that folding clothes is a chore that drives me batshit on the worst of days.

So there I was, watching Con Air, when Mate walked in. And got immediately sucked in.

He stood there, leaning against the bed frame, arms folded, and recited most of the lines for about a fifteen minute section.

Now remember--politics. All day. Which left me feeling particularly icky. And suddenly, there's Mate, gleeful as a kid, and shit's going boom, and there's Nick Cage when he was buff and you know what?

For a little while, all was right with my world.

I need to remember that. Yes, politics are important right now--but so's shit-go-boom-and-pecs. For all our sakes. If we can't laugh at a stupid movie while adulating, we're doing shit wrong.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

So, I leave in two days, and I'm behind deadline and I'm a little sick and I've got a dozen things todo and whine whine whine whine who cares.

Mostly, I had a normal day, and the most exceptional thing was that I got to talk to Aila, my aqua instructor, whom I haven't seen in a while. (She was caring for her mother.) Anyway-- once again I got a hug, and it's starting to dawn on me how awesome women are. Men can go for YEARS and never feel comfortable enough to voluntarily touch another human platonically with affection.

Women hand out hugs the way they hand out snacks and hats if it's cold: we know everybody needs it so just don't bother resisting. There you go. We'll take care of all that noise.

Anyway-- it was good to see her again. We talked about how bored our friend Trina is, now that she's recovering from foot surgery, and I love her so much, I can't wait until she gets back to urge us into fat-burning cardio once more!

Anyway, so there's that, and hanging with the family--and hanging with the family was especially good tonight. The kids and I told jokes and shared songs all the way back from their dance lessons, and when we got home, Mate and I got some cuddle time in front of the TV, and then it was family time.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

I had my "lady parts" visit today-- I've got a healthy family history, and with the exception of the weight I'm relatively healthy, so I get these about every two years. In spite of the fact that Kaiser has been the closest thing to socialized medicine until the ACA, it's gotten really human in the last ten years. I've had the same Ob/Gyn since I was pregnant with ZoomBoy, and she's great.

Really great-- kind, young(er than me), stunningly pretty, and just everything you ever wanted to see in a successful doctor. She looks at pictures of my kids, asks about the career, tells me about her own kids (and yes--I saw her pregnant, in a sort of amusing turn of events.)

We had a good talk about people caring for each other, and how it's the reason we're here. When that stops happening, we're doomed.

I got a hug (in my circus tent and all) as she left, and I realized that hey, this doc appointment that every woman dreads was really not so bad.

I went down for my mammogram, and the woman there was VERY young, cute as a pixie, and while we mushed my boobs between the plates for the pictures, we talked about crocheting and how her daughter had learned how to do it, but was having difficulty because she'd forgotten parts, at six years old. The little girl is extremely OCD, and the crocheting was the only thing that seemed to help her relax, so I gave the lab tech Babetta's address, and told her that if she brought her daughter in with a problem, they could probably help her.

And I got a hug from her, too (while yet again, wearing a circus tent. The hugs were great-- the circus tents, oi!)

Anyway--

It was a lovely visit, with friendly people who did their job competently and wanted what was best for my body. I discussed weight loss with my doctor, and she told me I was the healthiest "large" patient she had (I was proud of that--don't know why) and generally, I felt proactive about my health and happy with the medical profession at large.

Of course, all of this was because Mate and I could afford health insurance.

We couldn't always.

When I got pregnant with Big T, we had none. We had to pledge a lot of money we didn't have to a barely competent asshole just to get prenatal care. So, you know, debt. I GOT health insurance when I got hired, but the laws protecting women from discrimination weren't in place then, and I was promptly fired at the semester when they realized I was pregnant, and then fired again from another school when child care caused me to call in sick too many times, and banned from the district at the end because I was just too much trouble.

And then we had no health insurance, and I got pregnant with Chicken. (Not that I regretted that, even when it happened. But there was definitely a cause/effect thing there.)

Had to get a welfare doctor then-- and she was nice, but damned condescending, and everybody in the hospital ignored me about pretty much everything including how far along in my labor I was when I walked in. (Oh, you're almost completely dilated? Well good for you. We had no idea you were that strong. We're so impressed. Erg.) They kicked me out of the hospital 14 hours after Chicken was born. For men who think, "Well, suck it up, buttercup, that's just what happens and you need to be tough about it!" keep in mind that if they had done that after we had my third baby, he would have died of SIDS the night we brought him home, because his blood sugar dropped twelve hours after he was born and he went unresponsive. Had to feed him through a tube in the nose, which, by the way, if we hadn't had health insurance, we would still be paying for while we raised eight kids in a two bedroom apartment.

Of course we were lucky by then.

We had health insurance.

But if we hadn't had it, ZB wouldn't have made it.

I could go on and on and on--but I've done that here before.

I just wanted to say for the record I really appreciate my health care professionals, with all of my heart.

And that makes me so angry-- so VERY FUCKING ANGRY--at what Cheetoh McShitGibbon has done in office during the last two days to make sure that ONLY women with money will get decent health care again.

Because I've been the woman without money, and I've seen it from the other side, and it sucks ass. It is dangerous for women, it is dangerous for children, and it feeds into a HORRIBLY unhealthy society.

And I know how important it is to my health that I have access to women's health now, and I"m so grateful for it, I can't even tell you. I can't articulate how awesome it is to not have to worry about it, and how human I felt to have health care professionals I trusted, and who lived in my community, take care of me.

And I can't even BRAIN how puckered angry white men think it's okay to stick their grimy unwelcome fists into women's vaginas and grope around a little and tell them why they have no rights to birth control or prenatal care or mammograms or any of those things because seriously, why do women need that shit anyway?

Who needs dying white men, flesh sagging from their gin blossoms, to tell us why we don't?

Forget "punch a Nazi in the face" day-- it's time to kick a senator in the wiener. Those assholes can't get enough of OUR reproductive rights--I think it's only fair.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

"No, no-- you've been cooking dinner for the last month. I'll get them."

"But you've been busy with gaming and meetings and with helping Chicken with her broken car, I'll get it."

"No, no-- don't worry. I'll make it happen. And I'll do the laundry too."

"No, no--I'll get the laundry. If you're going to get the dishes, I'll get the laundry."

"Not your fault the laundry is overflowing. Don't worry about it..."

And so on.

Are you ready to beat us both with a 2x4 yet?

So Mate, my beloved Mate, has been trying to update my website for two years.

And being Mate, he has big plans, and a great idea, and no time to do it. Literally no time. He already lives behind his computer during family time as it is, usually sending e-mails, whether to work or soccer, doesn't matter.

Now two years ago, (when we had money) I offered to find a designer to pay. That's when I got the logo et al (still one of the best things I've ever done) and his feelings were hurt. He could do it. I know he could.

Okay. I knew he could.

And yes, I've updated the website (Weebly, which apparently is some sort of sin of websites, we had no idea) since, thinking, "Oh, this thing I'm doing here--I will have him change it for the new one. And this thing I'm doing here? This should be done like this. And I will have pages for each series, and I will organize the books by type instead of publisher, and..."

And this list sort of grew longer and longer and longer, until every time I looked at my website I wanted to cry.

Well, I went to my website today and one of my priorities was eliminating the Torquere page (because none of the links worked anymore anyway) and I accidentally deleted the DSP page and I got an idea for how to make that whole thing more efficient anyway and...

So what I'm trying to say is, I updated my website with the help of a reader who was more than sympathetic to my plight. (I owe her something wonderful and writerly... think think think...)

But it's not completely done.

I'll do more tomorrow.

And hopefully more the next day.

Until it's as good as I can get it.

Until Mate can finish the WordPress website that he's been wanting to see for so long.

And also, in case you haven't uploaded it, Scorched Haven is available in .pdf if you want to GO CHECK IT OUT.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Today, in light of the thing that was inflicted on our nation on Friday, a lot of people were quoting George Orwell's 1984. Now, 1984 is a favorite of mine--I used to teach a unit on that and Brave New World that I really really loved. But although those books deal with fascism and massive social oppression, they're not the only ones that deal with a tyrant.

One of my favorite things to teach--one of the things I used to be able to recite pages of (not accurately, but the gist was pretty much there) was Macbeth.

And so I offer you some quotes from MacBeth, just in case you find yourself, between now and the future impeachment, sputtering for words. Shakespeare has a couple of old standbys that just might come in handy:

Upon obsessing over something small and insignificant that's a reflection of your own soiled soul--or the place where the bad Tweets come from:
"Out, damned spot! out, I say!" (Act V, Scene I).

Upon watching someone who butchers his own language try to give a speech to lead millions of people who are smarter than he is:
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." (Act V, Scene V)

Upon mistaking power for empty privilege:

"I bear a charmed life." (Act V, Scene VIII)

Upon not having the temperament to rule justly:

The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth. (Act IV, Scene III)

Upon making a subtle threat:

Fail not our feast (Act II, Scene II)

Upon being tortured by your own guilt because you did something horrible for no reason at all:

But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”?
I had most need of blessing, and “Amen”
Stuck in my throat. (Act II, Scene II)

Upon being irrationally afraid of things that have been made to look bad in order to entertain us:

Upon convincing the gullible and the desperate that all of their misfortune stems from someone who not only wouldn't hurt them, but would probably work for their betterment:

Have you considered of my speeches? Know
That it was he, in the times past, which held you
So under fortune, which you thought had been
Our innocent self. This I made good to you
In our last conference, passed in probation with you,
How you were borne in hand, how crossed, the instruments,
Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
To half a soul and to a notion crazed
Say, “Thus did Banquo.” (Act 3, Scene 1)

Upon not being able to get people to do what you want because you don't have any leadership abilities whatsoever:

He cannot buckle his distempered cause
Within the belt of rule. (Act 5, Scene 2)

Upon commanding people who hate you, and being too small a person for the great office you've usurped:

Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in love. Now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Get Chicken to work a little bit late at 10:50 because we stopped to get her food, and she'd had no breakfast. She was understanding.

Get home at 11:35.

Debate fiercely with self whether to go to aqua or not, conveniently forgetting that ZoomBoy should be out of school at 1:30. Or was it 2:30? It was definitely 1--wait, 2:30.

Watch it start to rain and give up on aqua. Besides, it was 1:30.

Forget it was 1:30, forget that it's Thursday, forget Squish is out at 2:04, and go down for a nap.

Get a call at 2:25 as you're out the door to get ZoomBoy. It's Squish, saying, "You forgot it's Thursday, didn't you?"

Go HOLY MOTHERFUCKING CRAPBALLS in your head while you rush to pick up ZoomBoy, who, by the way, got out at 2:30 and is unperturbed.

Pick Squish up EXTRA late because we got ZoomBoy first.

Squish picks the place to get snack, because, well, ZoomBoy first.

Get home at 3:30 to a phone call from the dealership--come get car!

Leave house a little early, and realize HOLY MOTHERFUCKING CRAPBALLS I NEED TO GET GAS.

Have exactly enough time to get gas, drop off the rental and walk next door to get the old car with the brand new ass before everything closes.

Get home and pretend nobody's hungry for dinner while you try to get just a little bit of work, please, just half an hour of work in, for the love of holy let me do my job.

Start dinner at 7.

Eat dinner at 8, when Mate gets home after dropping Chicken off at her apartment, with a complete schedule for how she doesn't need a ride to work again tomorrow because her car is getting worked on.

Take phone call at 9 that you've wanted to take for quite a while.

See text while on phone that indicates somebody has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. You have no idea who.

Hug kids off to bed while on the phone.

Get off phone, spend five minutes with husband before he goes to bed, and ten minutes on phone figuring out that you need to take ZoomBoy to the doctor's tomorrow before he goes to school.

Think-- just THINK you've got the schedule down until Mate reminds you that Squish has choir, ZoomBoy DOESN'T have club, and Chicken will need a ride home from the Car Czar.

Sit down to do some frickin' work.

Look at clock and see that it's blog time.

Cry.

Tomorrow, a horrible, monstrous abomination of a human being is going to be sworn in to rule (not govern, rule, like we're serfs) our country.

I personally will be too fucking busy living a life of community and family to give a ripe shit, or to read anything relevant to this farce that I can't use the democratic process to fight.

And I'm going to remember that the things he says aren't real unless he can legislate them. And if he tries to legislate him, he can be fought. And that community and family are bigger and more important than this aging flea-shit business failure on any given day.

I have more worth as a human taxi than this guy has on his biggest day. Whatever you are doing--whoever you are loving, whatever cause you are fighting for, whoever you are doing good for, whatever ideal or hope you are embracing--remember that you do too.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

ZoomBoy has taken to calling the dogs "assles", thinking that I won't notice he's really just copying ME when I call them assholes. I let him get away with it because A. Middle School, B. Mom swears all the time, what did I expect, and C. They dogs ARE assholes.

Anyway--

Squish today said, "Wait! Why does he get to say traffic words?"

Me: He doesn't really.

Squish: Do I get to call them assles?

Me: No! Neither of you should!

ZoomBoy: Why not?

Me: Because one day you're going to be talking about your pets in class and you're going to say "We've got three cats, two fish, and two assholes!" and then I"m going to get called to the principal's office!

They both seemed to think this was good reasoning and we dropped the subject.

Of course my real reason was that Mate isn't happy when the kids learn to swear--even though he's the second worst offender in the house.

So that was new.

Now old.

I'm trying to finish fingerless mitts and a couple of hats as swag. It's hard fitting the time in, and I had a flashback to when I used to knit baby blankets in three days and four sweaters a year.

And then I remembered the following conversation between me and a friend of mine.

We were "adopting" bears for Chicken's birthday-- a Build-a-Bear workshop. And in your "adoption" papers, you have to put a few hobbies or words that described you.

"Oh, easy!" my friend said. "You're a yarner."

"That's it? I put writer--see?" (I had just finished Vulnerable-- I was so proud.)

"Well, yeah-- but you leave little scraps of yarn everywhere you go. So, you know, more knitter than writer."

And I realized I had to make a choice, schedule time, break away from my beloved knitting and write instead.

And it was a bigger sacrifice than it might seem.

I mean, I really love knitting.

But I stand by that choice back then. Writing is who I am.

Although I still do leave the occasional yarn end to mark where I've been. Think of it as fiber of love ;-)

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Okay-- the days have been quiet which doesn't give me much blog-fodder, but I have a few things today.

The first is I took the Odyssey in to get the back quarter repaired today--and realized I'd forgotten to reserve a rental car. I went to the rental car place--right next door to the repair shop--and resigned myself to a long wait for Mate. Hell, I couldn't even get him on the phone.

Then the girl--who looked disconcertingly like Buffy the Vampire Slayer--and I say that with all love, because Sarah Michelle Gellar is stunningly pretty and I adored Buffy--saw me sitting in the corner, looking across the street at McDonalds and wondering if maybe I should just wait there because at least there was coffee, and said, "Wait--did you turn in a minivan?"

"Yes..."

"So you'd want a minivan in return?"

"Sure!"

"I can get you one of those. Just wait."

Took her ten minutes.

And she didn't have to do it. I was the moron who hadn't reserved a car. I took to Twitter and @Enterprise and sent out something making sure she got an attagirl. And they said she would. I mean, it was just so kind-- and she didn't have to. I hope she got a gift certificate somewhere awesome--I really do.

And the car was a newer Dodge Caravan-- which is the same make/model of the one that died--literally, gave it's last gasp into a parking spot--two years ago. BTW? This one looks totally different than that one. It's like a whole new car.

The kids were very puzzled--and very excited--with the new-to-us vehicle. The dogs were highly suspicious. Apparently all bad things start with a Dodge Caravan. I'm thinking Johnnie and Geoffie might still have memories of the old one.

And after that?

Well, Quickening Part 1 got it's second to last edit, and THAT'S exciting!

Oh! And I'm making KPoP mitts for swag for Coastal Magic-- can you tell?

Well... maybe if the dogs weren't in the way...

I'm pretty embarrassed about the fingerless mitts as a swag option btw. I really don't see how anybody would want them--I'm bringing books for backup.

I'm going to be at Coastal Magic in Daytona Beach, Florida, in a couple of weeks, and I'm excited. I'm going down a few days early, spending time with a friend who both writes and knits, and we're going to attend a class given by Franklin Habit.

Be still my heart!

I can't even tell you how much I'm looking forward to this.

And at the same time...

Guilt.

Who will tell he kids to feed the cats? Who will walk the dogs? Who will keep Mate from lunging off the bed when he has a nightmare?

And as I contemplate the guilt, I realize it's been a long time since I've gone anywhere without my family. Wow. September? Is that when Yaoi-Con was?

I've planned a year of moderate travel-- Coastal Magic, DSP Weekend in Orlando in March, Romantic Times in Atlanta, and possibly RWA in Florida, and it's occurred to me that I miss my family during these moments.

Parenthood and career is such a perilous balance, isn't it? I think, in the last two years I've made several unconscious decisions to pick family over career. Interesting that--how sometimes it just happens, whether you will it or not.

That doesn't mean the decisions are easy to live with-- I kick myself daily for not updating my website, not writing more letters to shop out Heaven, not connecting more with the publishing world.

But I think what it comes down to, is that in all the world the things I'd most like to do, are spend time with my family and write.

So that's what I do.

And it's important to remember that I'm the one who set this priority, because if things on the career front don't pan out the way I'd hoped, I'm the one who set the priority.
Yeah, it sucks being a grownup sometimes.

Anyway--I'm rambling. It's 1:25 a.m, and mostly what I've done today is edit and sleep, with time out to walk the dogs and play Ultimate Werewolf with the kids. (We've been spending about 20 minutes a night doing this--the game comes with an app, and expansion packs, and generally, high hilarity.) On the one hand, I've worked an eight hour day.

On the other, I've dozed in front of the television for an hour while Mate watched Bob's Burgers.

I think generally, I can't complain. I mean, I can--I've had setbacks, even one today that sort of broke my heart even though nothing really bad happened, I just had to adjust how I was thinking about a story. It will still be published--just not how I thought.

But that too, is a choice.

And not too bad of one, really.

So yeah-- I guess when you're the ultimate grownup, those choices are all about balance. Today wasn't a bad day on the beam.

Monday, January 16, 2017

I tweeted yesterday about taking the 9 a.m. Saturday morning aqua class to try to fit some aqua in before the rain comes again. It was 35 degrees when I got ready to leave.

Yeah-- chilly.

Now, the pool was heated-- 78 degrees for aqua, it might even be 80--so the worst part was stripping to my suit and walking to the stairs (and then the trip from the pool to the hot tub afterward) and the class was pretty small. (This means we could work really hard--lots of room--so we could keep ourselves warm.)

Anyway, I hadn't met this aqua instructor before, but she was awesome. A salty woman in her sixties, she was having technical difficulties with her DVD player and I offered my phone in its place.

"I'm not sure what's on it," I said apologetically. "It's the kids' mix on Spotify."

"I have no idea what that means."

Well...

Heather Dale--March of the Cambreadth

Journey--Don't Stop Believing
The Romantics--What I Like About You

Dropkick Murphy's--The Warrior's Code

Mark Ronson--Uptown Funk

Boxer Rebellion--The Runner

Lil Wayne--Let it Rock

Hunger Games Soundtrack--The Hanging Tree

Heather Dale--Mordred's Lullaby

And I was living in fear that Linkin Park and Offspring would come on, because those songs had a lot of swear words.

Anyway-- it's sort of eclectic.

And the funniest part of the whole experience was when one of the other victims, er, class members, turned to me and said "Oh my God, how old are your kids?"

I had to laugh.

That's a very complicated answer!!!

But some of you were worried about me when I said I was going... I just thought I'd tell you I survived.

And I'm thinking of going in the cold tomorrow. But, you know, only if the music's good ;-)

Friday, January 13, 2017

Zoomboy had a dentist appointment today-- I was all over it. Was gonna take him at 10:30, get him back to school by 11:45, get to aqua right on time and BOOM.

Day mastered, motherhood achieved.

One or two little glitches to this plan.

It started out well enough-- I went to get him from school and chatted up the attendance lady.

She is the nicest person.

"Oh, yes. Zoomboy. He's the sweetest lamb. He was tardy today."

"Uh, yeah."

"He's tardy quite a bit--but not as much as last year, so that's encouraging."

(I may have mentioned before that Mate and I are THOSE parents.) "He's getting better."

"Yes, but I remember him this morning. He's rocking the bright green mitts. So cheery!"

"I'm making him a hat to match."

"He'll love that! But he signs his name slower than any child I've seen in my entire career."

(Like me, she is not young. This is an unexpected landmark in Zoomboy's history of being Zoomboy.)

"Well, you know, we're both left handed."

"Yes-- and he's got to do the thing with his hand. I understand. But he's a sweetheart--and here he comes!"

So that went well--and I think we need to remember to give the attendance lady a gift on the last day of school. It would probably be very appreciated.

But anyway, that wasn't the glitch. The glitches came with the appointment itself. First, they were running a little late. But the dentist was taking extra time with a fractious little one who was having a very bad day, and since I am a grownup and Zoomboy is a big kid, we could definitely wait for that.

The second was... uh...

Well, I hadn't counted on her using nitrous.

I mean, I should have. Because they were sealing and filling all his teeth. But I didn't.

Zoomboy floated out of the back office and I talked with the dentist. While I was doing that he fetched my yarn bag. And stood at my side, staring at me soulfully. Without saying a word.

We got to the car and I talked about his procedure for checking back into school, and he said, "Can I just go home. Please."

It was the first thing he'd said in fifteen minutes, and he mumbled. And it dawns on me.

"Are you feeling a little loopy?"

"My nostrils are cold."

"Are you seeing in sound?"

"No." Beat beat beat. "Am I drooling?"

"No."

"It's Friday the thirteenth. I"m glad you didn't go after all the people in my dream with a blood dripping machete."

"Me too. That would have been unnerving."

"Yes. Don't do that."

And then he leaned his head against the car window and stared out into the bright sunshine.

"Okay then. We still need to go get your stuff."

"Okay." ... ... ...

Folks, the softly staring gaze was getting unnerving.

He had to hold my hand when we walked across the school quad so he didn't wander away.

"Is he checking back in?" the attendance lady asked, looking puzzled.

"Uh, no. They had to use nitrous."

Zoomboy stared happily into space and swayed.

"Oh. Do you think you can get to your locker, Zoomboy?" she asked as she wrote the pass.

"Zoomboy?" I tapped his chin.

"Yeah. That's fine."

He wandered away and she was like, "Yeah, I don't think..."

"No, he's really not gonna..."

"Yeah. This isn't the day to go back to school."

I texted Mate. Even the attendance lady thinks he's too stoned to go to school.
I texted Chicken, and she was like, "Ha ha-- I need to see that!"

I told ZoomBoy what she said.

"Tell her to take a picture."

So I did.

And I'm not sure if the picture is worth the 1000 words... but I do think it backs them up a little. He's playing video games now. And trying not to drool.

Nitrous--I need to file that away in my motherhood bag, so I know what to expect next time.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

First of all, Rhae made me mitts, because she is wonderful. They are soft and scrumptious and smell like Damascus rose.

You can't have them, They're MINE. (Thanks Rhae!)

And about the cats...

The balance of power has changed here at chez Lane. I'm trying to decide exactly how to fix things, but cats are particular creatures, you understand?

Gordie hates me because he thinks I'm the reason Chicken left. This is fact.

Gordie should love me, because I have reintroduced wet food into the dietary regime of our cats. This is also fact.
Newt Dewey loves me, because he loves everybody. This is fact.

Newt Dewey loves me in particular because I give the magic wet food. Again, a fact.

Newt Dewey also loves me in particular because I am the one who wakes up and pets him at o-crotch-thirty and I also laugh at him when he lands on the dogs' heads, causing great confusion. You know, fact.

Steve used to love me best because we were both bitch queens in a tiny stinky kingdom and she liked it that way.

Steve now hates me. These are both sad truths.

Gordie now tolerates me.
Newt Dewey loves me in a very general way.

And the dogs are too stupid to understand that the balance of power has, indeed changed. They have initiated the following sequence of events:

Geoffie will plan to rush Newt Dewey because he is The Dreaded Cat. Gordie will jump in front of Newt Dewey and stare Geoffie into running in the opposite direction, because Gordie is the REAL dreaded cat. Geoffie will ru n right into Steve and get beat up, because she hates ALL THE THINGS not me, but she also hates me because there is one more thing NOT ME in the house.

So, as you can see, there is a delicate balance of fur, hubris, and irritation going on in my tiny, stinky house. (We won't discuss what Gordie did behind the Christmas tree before we took it down. Let's just say I wanted to shove a lump of coal up that cat's ass.)

Because of that, the following peaceful convocation of cats was both welcome and...

Very, very suspicious.

If my family and I disappear in a while, do me a favor.

Be kind to all fat mice.

You never known if one of them is wearing teeny tiny glasses and tapping on a cell phone with her mittened little paws.

* My shoes smell like troll vomit--I"m trying teabags in them to make them smell better tonight

* Speaking of "teabags" there is a term ZB uses for his games called "tea bagging"-- I have no idea what it means, but since I see no gay porn on the Overwatch screen, I'm going to hope it means something else.

* I miss aqua aerobics

* The dogs are going to rebel if I take them walking in the rain one more time

* The cats are still waiting fruitlessly for the world outside to change when they meow at the door

* Nope. Still raining.

* I hit that stage of tired today where I don't know I"m tired

* I think that question about "chair life" is no longer hypothetical-- my chair keeps sinking and it's pissing me off

* It's also funking up my back

* Ordered swag today

* Always order too much

* And assume it sucks

* Of course it sucks-- my sense of design--OI!

* I want you all to see the cover for Bonfires but it's debuting on Joyfully Jay at the end of this month

* Speaking of-- only a week and a half before I leave for Coastal Magic?

* HOLY CATS! I NEED TO GET MY TOES DONE!

* But I DID dye my hair this morning

* Shocker-- it is NOT clown-car red

* Gonna bail now--may tomorrow be filled with hope

* But speaking of hope, I hope I don't see any more fictional stories deal with plane crashes before I get on a plane. I watched an episode of Travelers and almost had a heart attack.

The reason The Green's Hill Werewolf Stories are sort of the odd-man out there is that I wrote the two GINORMOUS Bitter Moon books in between Bound and Rampant, and I missed the more contemporary writing. And, let's face it, the sex.
So-- that was the original order, if that's what you'd heard before or read before.

Now, since then, a couple of things have happened:

A. DSPP published this series and recovered them.

B. They had to split the SUPER LONG books into two volumes.

C. The Green's Hill Werewolf volumes were published by Torquere and THEN turned over to DSPP. They will be RERELEASED in the fall.

D. I wrote THREE Green's Hill Novellas-- Guarding the Vampire's Ghost, Litha's Constant Whim, and I Love You, Asshole, which were all condensed into one volume called The Green's Hill Novellas.
E. I FINISHED QUICKENING and it's out IN MAY AND JUNE.

Monday, January 9, 2017

When I was six years old, we lived in an old--extremely unsafe--house. We used to have to drain the claw-footed bathroom out the 1 1/2 story window with a piece of surgical tubing.

I was very conscious about water. I remember washing my hands and wondering, "Where does the water go? Will we ever run out? No--grownups won't let it."

The next year, California entered the first drought that I can remember.

When I was eighteen, my best friend and I thought we'd go to my night classes during the worst storm California could remember. It was 1986-- horses drowned at Cal Expo that night, trees floated across flooded parked roads, and my friend and I were out in the middle of a maelstrom, because she was afraid her horse, roaming free in a field, might be in danger like the unfortunate animals down next to the Sacramento river. Her car stalled in the middle of someone's driveway, we walked three miles in the rain, dodged lamas swimming over a flooded fence, and broke into her friend's house so we could find shelter.

Dumb things you do when you're young and stupid, right?

In 1996, Mate's mom called us in our second story apartment and asked us if we were okay. When we replied--rather puzzled--that we were fine, she told us to look out the window. Our apartment was fine, but half a block down, every 1st story apartment in the block was under water.

Last year, it was reported that the middle of my state had sunk nearly three inches because the water table had dropped so low, the earth was actually SINKING.

Californians worry about water.

One way or another, every day. Is the snow pack high? Will it get us through summer? Is it melting too fast? Will we flood this winter? Will the storm wash us away?

I took the dogs walking today for half a mile. They still think I was trying to kill them.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

I figure that's okay though-- I have a FaceBook event tomorrow, HERE the January Blast, with lots of giveaways and fun stuff, along with authors Kate MacMurray and Rayna Vause. I got Kim Fielding and Tara Lain and ZAM to participate in the giveaway so it should be REALLY fun.

Anyway, that was a good enough reason to post tonight, but also... we have the saga of the mitts.

So, in a rant about cold earlier this week, I whined (moaned, bitched, kvetched, you name it) about how my hands were cold and I'd lost ONE of my beloved fingerless mitts. Now I do this EVERY YEAR. Hanging around in my house are about twelve SINGLE MITTS from the times when I lost one. Yes, that makes me your seven year old kid.

Anyway--

So I whined about that, and Rhae Camdyn, whom I chat with daily on FaceBook, set about making me another pair.

Because she's FRICKIN' AMAZING LIKE THAT.

I took her up on that--I had kid projects to do-- big T's scarf, a pair of mitts for Chicken, a hat for ZoomBoy (but now he wants mitts too...)

Anyway--I was eyeball deep in kid projects, and she offered to make me my own. I was blessed.

Well, I finished Chicken's mitts, and they turned out so awesome I'm on for a pair for ZoomBoy and Squish, and Rhae's are on the way...

And today... today...

Today, we went to the grocery store for a big trip (not just bread or milk or eggs.) So, in our part of California, we bring our own bags. I mean we can pay for a bag, but it's become a point of pride with me to remember my own bags--I've talked before about my bag full of bags in my bag. (I can play that game all day, don't get me started.)

Anyway, at the bottom of the bag full of bags in the bag was...

The other mitt.

THE OTHER MITT.

People, this has never happened. Not once. I have NEVER found the other mitt.

Unprecedented. But I'm so happy. I'm wearing them both right now, and they are all wool and faintly felted and... just lovely.

*happy sigh*

So, that was exciting (if you're me, and apparently live the least exciting life of all time.

Of course, I wish I'd found it last night when we were at the King's Game-- because coming home was COLD once we got off the train.

I have to say something about going to see a Kings game now. See, it used to be, we'd go to the old shitty arena which was practically out in the middle of farmland, and it felt sort of personal--but very "cow town" which is what people call Sacramento for a reason. WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIELD. Anyway, now, with the new arena, right in the middle of K street, taking the train to downtown feels like an EVENT. The arena is lovely (if cramped--and no, I'm not the only person to say so.)

And finally, I'll leave you with this:

This morning I drove to get my coffee and then came home and gave the family THEIR hot chocolate and took the dogs for a walk. During most of this I was having a phone conversation with a friend. It was raining--not hard, but steadily--and it didn't seem like that big of a deal to be bareheaded--I was just going half a mile, right?

And I talked and held the dogs and juggled the phone and picked up poop and...

And I walked in the house and Mate lost his shit.

"Oh my God! You're soaking wet! Your hair is dripping all over the place. You've got a hood--why didn't you use it?"

I was still juggling the phone and the dogs and now my dripping jacket. "I only have too hands!" I protested.

"PUT DOWN THE PHONE!"

Well, the person on the other end of the line LOST HER SHIT and Mate laughed his scrawny ass off--and me? I hung my jacket up outside and ran to change. I've got to admit.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

* People seem to be enjoying The Virgin Manny-- which is good, because after my current project, I have to write the third in the series. (Yes, everybody, the second one features Taylor as the primary MC--but he's been through a lot, I'm telling' ya!)

* The dogs seem to have a thing against me knitting. Witness Geoffie, parked on my bicep, my hand trapped underneath, with no knitting in sight.

* Mate and I went to PetSmart the other day to get cat food and looked at a cat. No, we did not get this one--named "Socks"--but when I ever get another cat, Socks would be the best cat to get. Huge, playful, very human. I hope someone who will adore her takes her home.

* Someone who read Freckles got the mistaken impression that I was advocating just going out and replacing one dog with another if something bad happened. Uh, no. I was saying that being a dog owner was part of your identity. If you're a "dog owner" after a pet passes on, you will eventually go out and get another dog, because that's part of who you are. Like, I didn't used to think I was a small-dog owner, but now that I've had these guys for two and four years, I'm starting to think my life was incomplete without a small dog in it. Should the unthinkable happen, my life will be incomplete again, until I'm ready to fill that void.

* Wow, that last thing was morbid.

* On the happy side, I have a picture of Squish, modeling the scarf I made Big T. For the record, it's the Stanley Scarf pattern, but since I was making it into color blocks, I added an extra garter ridge in each color to make it look more squares. Also, this scarf is a thinner than the original pattern--and the yarn isn't mohair. But still--Stanley would have been proud.

* I've spent a couple of relatively uneventful days working--or remembering how to work. Tomorrow I go see Berry Jello and her kids, and we get to sit on the couch and let the dogs neck with us and watch television unashamedly. I can handle that.

* Don't forget-- I'm having a chat with Rayna Vause and Kate McMurray on Sunday, 11 a.m. PST RIGHT HERE. During my hour, I'm giving away books by Z.A. Mayfield, Kim Fielding, and Tara Lain-- and a few copies of Manny, of course ;-)

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

One of the lovely things about The Virgin Manny is the adorable young college man with the solid pecs standing in front of a swimming pool in the summer.

I love this picture.

Yes, Tino is cute, but mostly?

The picture is warm. So warm.

California is in the process of maybe not crisping away and withering sere into the furnace wind of the central valley. It's a painful process, as you might imagine, made worse by the fact that we have not endured it for nearly five years.

As God is my witness, I'd forgotten magic sky water was so cold.

I mean, you get cocky, right?

Winter, what's winter? This is fuckin' California--I'll make it through winter with my capris and my flip-flops like my stepmom and her mom did before me. Yeah, sure, I got hoodies-- who wants to know? Throw a scarf on me, let me find my fingerless mittens from last year, and I'm takin' this season on by the teeth, I tell you, by the fuckin' TEETH!

Except now, after a week of cold temperatures (Oh my STARS, it got to 31 degrees here, can you believe that? Simply believe it? The frozen precipitation of end times almost graced our humble valley!) and magic sky water, I have a confession to make.

I'm sorry--I have to apologize to the Tough Old Broads Association, the Gnarly Geezers, and yes, even the Middle-Aged Muffins, who I'm sure have all shown more backbone than I have. But I have to say it. Oh, yes, people, I really do.

I'm fuckin' COLD.

I went walking this morning an my feet got wet and cold, and I took off the shoes so the wet went away, but the cold stayed ALL DAY. I wore capris because, you know, Tough Old Broad or Middle-Aged Muffin, capris are good for all temperatures, right?

WRONG!

I came home and put on pajama pants and my entire body sighed in relief. Holy shit and pass the big stretchy socks, who knew ankles lost so much body heat!!!

And the worst thing?

The absolutely WORST thing?

I lost my one fingerless mitt. (For those of you who are new, I make a pair every year and then, sometime during the winter, lose one. Just one. Which is why I make a new pair every year. I suspect my cat sleeps on them in a corner of the house at night, and laughs her ass off.)

I bought a cheap pair of mittens and cut off the finger and thumb-tips so I can function, but they're acrylic, guys. ACRYLIC. These mitts might have possibly kept the dinosaur warm when he was pumping this shit as blood, but it's not particularly warm NOW.

So there. I said it. And I'm relieved.

I'm cold. I'm freezing my tits off. They're gonna fall to my feet, and I'm going to use them to bowl for the heads of my enemies, and then summer's gonna come and I'm gonna be bummed. No more tits. I'll say the winter did them in, it was such a tragedy, for fuckin' real.

*whew*

Okay. My epic whine about the cold is over. You can all stop laughing at my expense now--by the time you see this I'll be cuddled up with Mate, two dogs, two cats, and two of exactly the same cotton quilts which keep Mate and Petris family and I toasty warm.

And I'll be warm. Ever so warm.

And really appreciative of those of you who live in the snow and see temperatures in the negatives and who live in the Mitten (Kaje Harper, I'm looking at you!) and laugh at us soft low-landers as we cuddle and whine.

Go ahead and laugh. I deserve it. But by golly, I can stand a good laugh if my feet are warm.

Monday, January 2, 2017

*whew* Okay-- I have modest hopes for 2017, and they have certainly been raised by the offerings at this month's Kermit Flail.

To start with, I need to say that Rayna Vause, Kate McMurray and I all have releases within two weeks of each other. We start with The Virgin Manny, my offering to the Dreamspun Desires line, then we have Kate McMurray's release on the 9th, Their Has to be a Reason, and then we have Rayna's Dreamspun Desire, Extra Sensual Perception. So, since the three of us hang at cons (okay-- they let me hang with them. It's that simple. They are terminally East Coast Cool, and I am a dorky mom-thing from the sticks. They LET me hang with them and I am forever grateful because I love them terribly and want some of their cool to rub off on me.) Anyway-- we're going to do a FACEBOOK EVENT next Sunday, January 8th, watch this space for details, okay? It's going to be 12-3 EST and we're each going to take turns having games and doing give aways and such.

It'll be FAB and you're all invited.

So THAT'S exciting.

And then we have the awesome stuff HERE this week. Ki Brightly has a contemporary, Pheonix Hell gives a paranormal Christmas offering, K.C. Wells gives us a threesome (meow!), Anne Barwell gives us an historical, and the ever luminous Kim Fielding has some romantic suspense (YESSS!!)

In addition, K.C. Wells has asked that I flail her friend's autobiography (it looks heartbreaking, sosyouknows) for him, and I said we are an equal opportunity flail here, so by all means take a look at Stephen Land's offering, The Race. And speaking of equal opportunity, I met the fanTASTIC Ms. Melanie Jayne at Romantic Times last year, and she was charming and warm and lovely. She writes M/F, and it gives me TREMENDOUS pleasure to flail her this month. I can't wait to see her in May!

So like I said, it's an exciting bunch here this month.

Come see.

Extra Sensual Perception

by Rayna Vause

If a stalker doesn’t kill them, the heat between them might.

Christopher Vincent is desperate enough for a job that he accepts an offer to entertain as a psychic in a friend’s nightclub. Jackson Whitman, one of the club’s co-owners, is less than thrilled by the new act. To him, psychics are ridiculous and a liability. But when they come face-to-face, attraction flares to life between them.

Someone is watching Jack and Chris from the shadows. What starts as a series of creepy encounters leads to deadly attacks. Jack and Chris must set aside their differences and work together to

survive a homicidal stalker. But can they survive their explosive
connection?

Dave is enjoying his junior year at a big New England university, even if none of his relationships have been especially satisfying. He plans to hang around with his best friend Joe and focus on his studies until he graduates, and then he’ll figure out the rest.

Meeting Noel changes his plans.

Noel is strikingly beautiful and unlike anyone Dave knows. Something about Noel draws Dave to him—an attraction Dave doesn’t feel ready to label. And even if he was, why would Noel be interested in Dave? And what about Joe? He hates Noel and everything he represents, and he might hate Dave if he finds out about Dave’s secret desires. So Dave will have to keep those feelings hidden—along with his relationship with Noel.

But Noel has fought too hard for his identity to be Dave’s dirty secret. Will Dave tell the truth and risk the life he’s always known… or live a lie and risk losing the love of his life?

Sometimes family is a blessing and a curse. When Tino Robbins is roped into helping his sister deliver her premade Italian dinners when he should be studying for finals, he’s pretty sure it’s the latter! But one delivery might change everything.

Channing Lowell’s charmed life changes when his sister dies and leaves him her seven-year-old son. He’s committed to doing what’s best for Sammy… but he’s going to need a lot of help. When Tino lands on his porch, Channing is determined to recruit him to Team Sammy.

Tino plans to make his education count—even if that means avoiding a relationship—but as he falls harder and harder for his boss, he starts to wonder: Does he have to leave his newly forged family behind in order to live his promising tomorrow?

Life hasn’t been good to Jeb Birchman. When he attempted to escape his abusive, zealot father, he found himself on the streets, making a living the only way he knew how, the victim of more violent men—one of whom orchestrates a series of vicious attacks that leave Jeb deaf. Now that he’s aged beyond his latest client’s interest, Jeb knows he needs to escape his risky lifestyle before it’s too late. Seeing one last chance for himself, he earns a GED and enrolls in college.

Freddy Williams enjoys a life that couldn’t be more different from what Jeb has survived. He loves sports, being a personal trainer, and hanging out with friends. The son of deaf parents, Freddy is an outspoken advocate of the Deaf community and works as an interpreter at his college. When he meets Jeb at the bookstore, he’s struck by how attractive he is, and as they get to know each other, he finds Jeb’s good heart just as appealing. By the time he learns of Jeb’s past, it’s only a few steps behind them, and Freddy must make a choice between school and his familiar routine and protecting the man he’s falling in love with.

It is twenty years since the Bond of Three returned to Teruna. The kingdom of Kandor, once Teruna’s enemy, seeks help and sends its finest warrior, Dainon, on a diplomatic mission. A solitary man since his wife and child died, Dainon is unable to explain why an encounter with a young man on a beach rocks his world to its core.

Prince Arrio of Teruna has always been attracted to men but has never acted on it—until he meets Dainon. Headstrong Arrio goes after what he wants, despite his fathers’ advice. But when Prince Kei arrives unexpectedly, Arrio finds himself drawn to both men. Is history repeating itself?

Prince Kei has his first taste of freedom and is shocked when the visions that have plagued him since childhood become reality. The three men embark on a voyage of discovery. No one has foreseen the day, however, when the arrival of a stranger threatens to destroy their bond.

The Race is a story of one man’s triumph over sexual abuse and bullying, striving to find his own sexual identity. Growing up in an ultra conservative, religious family, Stephen aimed to pray the gay away before anyone could find out his secret. Stephen’s life became a constant battle, up to the point here he couldn’t hold on any longer. A failed suicide attempt finally put life into perspective, and Stephen came out, not just as a gay man but as a survivor of sexual abuse.

A week in the hospital with too much time to think, resulted in flashbacks that plunged him back into his nightmarish childhood and adolescence. What began as Stephen’s attempt to exorcise his demons, ended up being a story of hope for others who have also suffered sexual abuse.

His message? No matter how much you stumble coming off the starting blocks, you can still win the race.

Small but mighty—that could be Detective Nevin Ng’s motto. Now a dedicated member of the Portland Police Bureau, he didn’t let a tough start in life stop him from protecting those in need. He doesn’t take crap from anyone, and he doesn’t do relationships. Until he responds to the severe beating of a senior citizen and meets the victim’s wealthy, bow-tied landlord.

Property manager and developer Colin Westwood grew up with all the things Nevin never had, like plenty of money and a supportive, loving family. Too supportive, perhaps, since his childhood illness has left his parents unwilling to admit he’s a strong, grown man. Colin does do relationships, but they never work out. Now he’s thinking maybe he won’t just go with the flow. Maybe it’s time to try something more exciting. But being a witness to a terrible crime—or two—was more than he bargained for.

Despite their differences, Colin and Nevin discover that the sparks fly when they’re together. But sparks are short-lived, dampened by the advent of brutal crimes, and Colin and Nevin have seemingly little in common. The question is whether they have the heart to build something lasting.

It's the Christmas season in 2016 and Tevan has been on the outs with his own family. But he's been living with the local pack the Zodiac pack. While working he's called to come to his friends law firm to help his ex and his ex's boyfriend; he finds out that his ex and the current boyfriend is living in a haunted mansion.

The alpha of the Zodiac pack Alejandro reveals to Tevan that they are mates while they must deal with the fact they are mates and the supernatural demons that live in the mansion.

Tevan reveals that he's the protector of Milky Way, IL and could become a god if he so desired but he doesn't.

After defeating the demons, Alejandro decides that he and Tevan must marry, so that they can watch over the city. But do the Gods allow them to do so.

And who is the dark skinned man was walking along the road wearing a dark blue suit, and a royal purple cape. And what does he want with Tevan?

Hunted for treason and the information Kristopher carries, he and Michel leave the security of their safe house to journey across Germany toward Switzerland. Caught in a series of Allied bombings, they stop to help civilians and narrowly escape capture by German forces.

While investigating a downed aircraft in the Black Forest, the two men discover an injured RAF pilot. After they are separated, Kristopher and the pilot are discovered by a German officer who claims he is not who he appears to be. Determined to find Michel again, Kristopher has to trust the stranger and hope he is not connected to those searching for him and the information he carries. Meanwhile Michel is intercepted by one of the Allied soldiers he met in Berlin. His help is needed to save one of their own.

Time quickly runs out. Loyalties are tested and betrayed as the Gestapo closes in. Michel can only hope they can reach safety before information is revealed that could compromise not only his and Kristopher’s lives, but those of the remaining members of their team—if it is not already too late.

About Me

I am creative, distracted, and terribly weird. I love my children to distraction, and I love my hobbies even when they piss me off. I come from a double line of extremely creative, intelligent people who hated authority so much they dodged higher education, and I married a wonderful man who is quiet, conservative, devestatingly funny, and perfect. Our children are constant reminders that God and Goddess have a profound sense of humor, and that all of the things you dislike most about yourself but pretend don't exist really do come back on the karmic wheel to kick your ass when you least expect it. My family keeps me young and humble and I try every day to make them proud. I've written a LOT of books--I can't even count anymore, most of them for Dreamspinner Press and Riptide Press, but some of them published on my own. I write to placate the voices in my head, profanity is the element I swim in, and knitting socks at stoplights has become my twitch.

Quickening

The Fifth Book of the Little Goddess series will be out in two parts, May 2nd and June 16th.

*Kermit Flail*

If you would like to submit a new release for *Kermit Flail* Monday, simply e-mail me at amylane@greenshill.com with your title, .jpg cover attachment, blurb, and buy link. It helps if I know you-- I'll say sweet things about you-- but even if I don't, I'm happy to put you up on the *Flail*.